


Noticed

by imatrisarahtops



Series: Tumblr Prompts [5]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drawing, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imatrisarahtops/pseuds/imatrisarahtops
Summary: Without moving his head, he shifted his gaze, raising his eyes to glance at Marinette from beneath his bangs.  But Marinette wasn’t looking at him strangely, had no pity or disgust on her face, didn’t seem poised to tease.  Instead, she was smiling so gently, so kindly, that Nathaniel let himself turn to her fully.“Does Marc know you draw him like that?” she asked him softly.“No,” Nathaniel murmured, glancing back at the page which was indeed filled with half-finished doodles of the boy.  “He’s never noticed.”Marinette hummed thoughtfully.  “Well, you draw him beautifully.”“I just draw him how I see him,” Nathaniel told her simply.For the prompt “I just wanted someone to notice me.” for MarcNath.





	Noticed

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a while since I've shared anything in the Miraculous fandom, but I've been itching to write something to MarcNath. I have absolutely fallen in love with these boys and they just make me so happy.
> 
> I'm actually filling prompts at the moment! Which is how this fic came to be. I have dialogue prompts open on my tumblr, at [this post](http://imatrisarahtops.tumblr.com/post/181587661384/writing-prompts). Check it out and send me one! I have a few queued up to work on, but I'd especially welcome more for Marc and Nath, or other Miraculous ships! Feel free to send me one and I'll work on it in the next couple days!

There were times that Marc joked about being invisible—how despite being someone who stands out so much, his anxiety and introverted nature meant that he was often overlooked, that people simply didn’t notice him.

However, the thing that Nathaniel quickly realized about the writer was that while most others were likely to complain about such a thing, Marc never saw this as a problem. Sure, he liked being _recognized_ for his talents as a writer—something that Nathaniel was always sure to do, complimenting him and his skills, making sure that he knew his writing was definitely _worth_ paying attention to, worth reading _._

In other situations, though, Marc wasn’t only _not bothered_ by others not seeing him, he was perfectly content with it. When their friends gathered, while everyone joked and laughed, Marc participated, but he never much enjoyed being the center of attention. Nathaniel remembered asking him about it once as he walked him home after one such get-together. He was a little concerned for his quiet friend and the thought that maybe he didn’t actually _want_ to be hanging out with everyone in the art club, or with his friends, or with their classes. His chest ached a little with some sort of feeling he couldn’t place when the idea had first occurred to him.

To his immense relief, Marc had just smiled, chuckling softly and waving his hand dismissively. “I’m fine!” he assured him. “Sometimes I just like watching.”

And Nathaniel could understand that. Especially as an artist, he could appreciate the appeal of just sitting back and observing, taking in everything in front of him. On the rare occasion he didn’t have his sketchbook, he sometimes found himself thinking that the scene—just his friends talking together, laughing, playing around—would make a fantastic picture. He wondered if Marc ever did the same thing, imagining the story he could create inspired by his friends, if he ever wrote the words in his mind when he didn’t have paper and pen.

“If that’s ever _not_ the case,” Nathaniel had said, “you’d tell me, right?”

Marc had blinked owlishly at him, chinks pinkening as they so often did. “O-of course!”

“Really,” Nathaniel urged him, and he stopped walking to properly look at the other boy, to make sure he could see just how sincere he was being. “You know you wouldn’t be a bother. I’d want to know.”

Marc’s expression softened a little, the surprise melting away into something else. “I know,” he said and he nodded. “Thank you.” He offered a small smile.

Nathaniel smiled back in an effort to calm the butterflies that took flight in his stomach; it was a recent development in their friendship that Nathaniel had taken note of—sometimes, Marc would do these things that Nathaniel found so completely endearing, so positively charming. Whenever he’d do such things, Nathaniel found himself fighting with a fluttering in his chest as he wondered if Marc had any idea about this internal struggle.

The more time that he spent with Marc, the more Nathaniel noted these small changes, almost imperceptible instances where there was something _different_ between them.

He wondered if Marc noticed them, too. Surely he couldn’t be the only one.

Nathaniel wondered, later, if it could be considered irony that Ladybug was the one to shed some light on the whole situation.

It had been after an akuma attack. It certainly hadn’t been too terrible, not compared to some of the attacks they’d seen, but the moment that Nathaniel noticed that Marc was in danger, the fear that had flooded his veins hadn’t immobilized him like usual but instead spurred him into action. It was something so small, so insignificant he was fairly certain that Marc himself hadn’t noticed—but Ladybug had. Afterward, once the akuma had been purified and the magic of the Miraculous Cure had put everything back to normal, the superheroine had lightly scolded him.

“I know you dream of being a superhero sometimes, Nathaniel—of being Mightillustrator—but please remember that you aren't,” she told him, tone firm but also exceedingly kind and gentle—a true plea for him to be careful. “Our Miraculouses keep Chat Noir and me safe. You can’t do that, or you could get really hurt.”

Nathaniel found himself blinking at her for a moment. His brain instantly took note of the fact that _Ladybug had read the comic_ , and he immediately had so much that he wanted to say to her, to ask her—but something else was bothering him about what Ladybug had just said.

“I don’t want to be a hero,” he told her instead. “Not really. I just… I just don't want him to get hurt.”

It was Ladybug’s turn to be taken aback. But after a second, she just smiled at him—something soft and kind, and maybe a little too _knowing_ for Nathaniel’s liking. “You care about him a lot, huh?” she asked.

“Of course,” he told her, as though it was obvious. “More than anyone.” Just like that, understanding struck Nathaniel, as crisp and clear as black ink on a blank white page. Maybe it was even more obvious than he’d initially thought. “ _Oh_.”

Ladybug smiled gently, dropping her hand onto his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh.

She nodded, and there was a _beep_ trilling from her earring. She put a hand up to it, smiling apologetically, and then lifted her yo-yo. Before she swung off, she glanced back to Nathaniel over her shoulder. “Though, you know, you could say something to him.”

The problem was that Nathaniel was no good with words. That was the whole reason their partnership had begun, after all—Nathaniel couldn’t come up with the words to accompany his pictures; there was no way he would fare better in a situation like this.

His mind was buzzing with the aftermath of Ladybug’s words. He’d never considered this—that maybe his feelings for Marc would develop into something else. His crush on Marinette dissolving into his love for Ladybug—that was one thing. After he had been deakumatized, developing feelings for the hero had almost seemed inevitable. 

But this, on the other hand, had happened so slowly, so gradually, so _naturally_ that Nathaniel himself hadn’t even noticed at first. But it seemed that now he knew, it just made _sense._

It was so obvious, and yet he’d never noticed.

“Nath? Are you okay?”

Nathaniel startled slightly, turning to see Marinette tentatively entering the otherwise empty art room.

“Hey Marinette,” he said, still a little distracted. He turned back to the book in front of him, the rough sketches and smudges of graphite spread over the page. “I’m all right.”

“Uhm…” Nathaniel turned back to glance at her as she fiddled with her bag. “I… heard… about what happened earlier,” she said slowly, carefully picking each word. “With Marc.”

“Oh.” He looked back to his sketchbook, twirling his pencil between his fingertips, tapping the eraser against the page. He wasn’t sure how Marinette had heard—but at the same time, he didn’t feel surprised that she had. Marinette often seemed to hear and see things, to notice what others didn’t.

Not always—she still had her own fair share of oblivious moments—but definitely more than many of their other classmates.

He could practically feel as Marinette approached, then, and he couldn’t keep his shoulders from tensing, his cheeks reddening a little as he looked down at the paper.

Without moving his head, he shifted his gaze, raising his eyes to glance at Marinette from beneath his bangs. But Marinette wasn’t looking at him strangely, had no pity or disgust on her face, didn’t seem poised to tease. Instead, she was smiling so gently, so _kindly_ , that Nathaniel let himself turn to her fully.

“Does Marc know you draw him like that?” she asked him softly.

“No,” Nathaniel murmured, glancing back at the page which was indeed filled with half-finished doodles of the boy. “He’s never noticed.”

Marinette hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you draw him beautifully.”

“I just draw him how I see him,” Nathaniel told her simply.

Marinette was practically beaming at him, all bright smile and shining eyes. “If you don’t feel like you can say something to him,” she said, “you could just show him this. I think he’d really like it.”

Nathaniel considered the suggestion, glancing back down at the notebook on the table. But with a sigh, he slid his hand under the cover, folding the sketchbook closed. “I don’t think I can.”

“He’d love to see them,” she urged him.

“Marinette…”

“Hey Marinette. Hey Nathaniel.” They both turned to see Marc as he entered the room. “Everything okay?”

“Of course!” Marinette said brightly, before Nathaniel could even respond. “I was just looking at some of Nath’s sketches.” She pushed herself off of the desk. “I’ll catch you two later, okay?”

And with that, the two boys were left alone. Immediately, Marc was pulling out the chair next to Nathaniel, settling beside him.

“You were showing Marinette some sketches?” he asked a little excitedly. “Something new for our comic?”

“No!” Nathaniel said quickly, placing his arm over the sketchbook. “I mean… No, it was just… just some doodles. Nothing good.”

Marc blinked at him, but the smile quickly returned to his face. “I’m sure they’re great,” he assured him. “Everything you draw it fantastic, Nath!”

The way he said it so honestly, so earnestly, Nathaniel couldn’t help but smile. He sighed. “Thanks,” he said.

“But it’s true,” Marc said. “The lines, the movement… It’s all so inspiring, and so amazing. I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at your drawings.”

“You said something like that the first time you saw them in here, too,” Nathaniel pointed out.

Marc blushed slightly, hand jumping up to scratch the back of his head. “Oh, did… did I?” he asked. “Well… it’s true.”

Nathaniel gazed at him for a moment, considering him carefully, thoughtfully. He took a deep breath, glancing back down at the desk. “When I started these drawings and sharing them… I just wanted someone to notice me,” he said quietly.

“You wanted Ladybug to notice you,” Marc said.

“I—maybe?” Nathaniel admitted. “Probably.” He looked back to Marc. “She did. After the akuma attack, she… she mentioned them. She’s seen them."

Marc’s eyes lit up. “So that’s what you wanted!” he said. "That’s great!”

But Nathaniel frowned. “But that’s not what I want, anymore,” he said. “When she brought up the comics, brought up Mightillustrator, sure, I was excited but… I just felt proud. Not because she’d seen my drawings, but because she’d seen what you and I made together.”

“You’ve put a lot of work into it!” Marc insisted.

“We both have,” Nathaniel said instead. He paused, looking down at his sketchbook. He rested his hand on top, fingers splayed across the cover. “I think I was waiting for the wrong person to notice me,” he told Marc softly. “Or… maybe there was someone who noticed me from the start, but I didn’t realize it.”

Marc tilted his head, looking at him curiously. Before he could ask, though, Nathaniel was opening his sketchbook, laying out the same pages that he had before. Marc glanced down at the paper, eyes widening as he did. He looked back up at Nathaniel in silent question and the redhead nodded. Carefully, Marc reached out and slid the book closer to him so he could properly see the drawings.

“But these are… they’re just me,” Marc said, disbelieving. “Not—not Reverser, just… me.”

“They’re not ‘ _just you_ ’,” Nathaniel said.

“No, but I-I…” He shook his head, looking back to Nathaniel. “These are much too beautiful for just pictures of me!”

“Do you like them?” he asked cautiously.

“They’re amazing,” Marc repeated. “But… why would you draw me?” He met Nathaniel’s eyes, frowning a little as he looked at him with uncertainty. But Nathaniel was quiet, and suddenly Marc’s eyes were widening, eyes darting between the redhead and the sketches. “Me,” he said, then. “I’m the one… you…?”

Nathaniel could only nod.

Before he could say anything else, there were two gloved hands on his cheeks and soft lips were crashing into his. It was brief and chaste and sweet, a little awkward and clumsy—but it was so, _so_ perfect—it was _art_.

All too soon, Marc was pulling away, a rosy blush on his cheeks as he stared wide-eyed at the other boy. “Sorry!” he said quickly. “I—”

“Please,” Nathaniel quickly cut across, hands immediately jumping up to cover Marc’s which were still cupping his face. “Please don’t ever apologize for that.”

With the words, the panic was eased out of Marc’s expression, and he smiled—a smile so shy and genuine and pure that it made Nathaniel’s heart stutter in his chest.

And that was everything that Nathaniel could have wanted in that moment.


End file.
